HER ROYAL WAGNESS; Great legs, hour-glass curves, natural beauty. But is Zara turning into…

0 Comments | Daily Mail (London, England), The, March 24, 2009

Byline: by Liz Jones

THE only thing missing was a spray-on tan. Otherwise, from the oversize sunglasses to the exposed cleavage, ironed blonde hair and giant hoop earrings usually seen only on the ears of teenage single mothers pushing prams, Zara Phillips, as she watched fiance Mike Tindall play rugby for England, looked like an out and out WAG.

Gone was the sleek ponytail, and in its place a choppy fringe and extensions that would look more at home on the head of Paris Hilton.

Gone was the make-up-free face and gone, too, was any hope that, perhaps, given how the other pretenders to the Princess of Wales's fashion crown have fallen at the first hurdle (Lady Helen Windsor: too boring having got into bed with Giorgio Armani; Kate Middleton: too gauche and high street), Zara P could be The One.

Once, it had seemed she could ignite the covers of the weekly glossies and perhaps be our very own Princess Stephanie of Monaco: broad shouldered, athletic, with a pared-down fashion aesthetic and a naughty streak..

But, oh dear me no. We should have known the chances of the British Royal Family spawning a goddess with taste, good looks and an innate sense of style -- other than by marriage -- were as likely as Victoria Beckham eating a doughnut.

Zara is a naturally beautiful girl who radiates fun, energy and love of life.

She's one of the most likeable women on the royal scene. But this new picture of her is only the latest example of the gradual chavification of the young royals -- the Freddies and the Peters and the Beatrices and the Harrys -- who behave all too often as though they inhabit an Eighties soap opera, fuelled with fast cars, overdecorated ranch-style homes and terrible, terrible fashion.

Like many young women with conservative, powerful parents, Zara used fashion in her teenage years to rebel, to try to forge her own identity: there was the tongue stud that probably made her mother Princess Anne's hair stand on end even more than it always has, the boob tubes teamed with culottes, the white leather accessories, the inappropriate boyfriends and falling down drunk in public.

As she entered her 20s -- she's now 27 -- the rebellious streak should have abated, but instead she has dabbled in schizophrenic sartorial choices that reveal how insecure she feels about her place in life, and her own beauty.

She has chanced her arm with a cowgirl hat and cowboy boots worn with a plunging evening dress, a masculine tweed three-piece suit worn with a trilby, lace-up stiletto boots, wedge heels, hot pants and tank tops, a poncho and over-wide trousers, and loud jackets with big buttons and three-quarter sleeves.

AT CHELTENHAM earlier this month, she wore black suede shoe boots by Gwen Stefani and the only questions I can think to ask are: why?

And: did she borrow them from Princess Beatrice? Zara can look stunning -- she reminds me of Cameron Diaz. She has fabulous skin (most horsey women have broken veins from being outdoors in all weathers) and an enormous smile. She has great legs, and breasts that are in no need of augmentation.

On the red carpet not long ago, she wore a simple navy floor-length duchesse satin halterneck that exposed her well-toned arms and fabulously muscled back. For the Queen's diamond wedding anniversary service at Westminster Abbey, she wore a grey trapeze coat with knee-length skirt and jaunty black beret that struck just the right note of foxy formality.

But the truth is, Zara Phillips is not really interested in fashion. Like all girls whose first love is ponies, she's only at home in stretch jodhpurs and a Puffa jerkin, straw in her hair and muck under her fingernails.

Like all athletes, she looks uncomfortable and inappropriate when not in sporting clothes.

Take her outfit for Ladies' Day at Ascot last year: a high-waisted bubble skirt under a pussycat bow blouse and a cream hat the size of a holly bush; she made TV presenter Clare Balding, stood next to her, seem as frail and feminine as Tinkerbell. Just as most footballers' thighs are too big to look good in civvies, so a horsewoman's wide shoulders and strapping arms look overly masculine in anything remotely girly or frou frou.

But like so many successful young women -- she became Three Day Event world champion, only missed last year's Olympics due to injury and has managed to hang on to corporate sponsors like RBS, Rolex and Land Rover while many other athletes have fallen by the wayside -- Zara feels compelled to dabble in, and be in awe of, the sort of outfits Cheryl Cole or Kerry Katona might wear.

What Zara needs more of (and this is an odd thing to write, given she's granddaughter to the Queen) is good old-fashioned class.

According to everyone who works with her, Zara is down-to-earth and hard-working. She gets up far too early to muck out her own horses to be seen falling out of Boujis nightclub like her cousins. Her clothes need to reflect this. But like many women who are confident in their job, her self-possession falls apart when it comes to her wardrobe.